#selfacceptance

If you can’t stand today—kneel.

You don’t have to hold it all together, not here. When the world feels heavy, let your knees find the floor. Let me be the ground beneath you—the place where you can let go.

For a long time, I couldn’t quite put into words why romance and sex never really clicked for me. I liked people, I cared about them, but that spark everyone talked about, the crushes, the butterflies, the desire, just wasn’t there.

Eventually, I found the words that actually fit: aroace.

I don’t experience romantic or sexual attraction, and honestly, that makes sense of so many things I used to wonder about.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t notice beauty.

Sometimes I find men or women (or anyone, really) aesthetically attractive, the way someone carries themselves, their style, the energy they give off. It’s not about wanting them, it’s just a quiet kind of appreciation.

That’s why I also describe myself as bi-aesthetic aroace.

I can see beauty in anyone, but I don’t feel the need for romance or sex. It’s not absence, it’s peace.

Touch and closeness are personal for me, too. Being touched or crowded can make me anxious, and I’ve learned that letting someone close — physically or emotionally — is a privilege. It’s about trust, not distance.

Realising this about myself has been freeing. I don’t need to force a type of connection that doesn’t feel natural. I can still build strong friendships, deep bonds, and meaningful relationships — just in my own way.

It’s okay to exist outside the boxes. It’s okay to be comfortable with who you are, even if it doesn’t match what others expect.

💚🖤🤍💜

bi-aesthetic aroace | autistic | proud to know myself better

I stare in glass, at hollow grace,

A face the world will not embrace.

No stars, no spark, no gentle glow,

Just eyes that scream, “I’ll never show.”

They don’t write songs for eyes like mine,

No metaphors, no sacred shrine.

No one gets lost in this blank sea,

No hearts undone. No poetry.

I’ve seen the girls with sugar lids,

With lashes long like fairytale fibs.

They blink, and men forget to breathe—

I blink, and all the dreams just leave.

So leave it there, don’t twist the end,

No phoenix rise, no hope to lend.

Just tired eyes that watch, unseen—

Not ugly.

Not lovely.

🪽 Благие знамения, Good Omens

English ⬇️

⸻

Карточка с самоваром

Это очередное послание и фото тебе, которое я никуда не отправлю, а просто положу в коробку.

Горячий, пахнущий шишками чай. Скрипящий под ногами снег. Холод и ледяной воздух отлично прочищают мозги. Остаёшься с одной мыслью: «Я у себя есть. И этого достаточно.»

  🔥 𝔢𝔫 🔥

A Samovar Postcard

This is another message and a photo for you that I won’t send anywhere — just fold into a box.